How?
by magicalferret
Summary: I am alone. Utterly alone. I have no one, no one to talk to, and no one to hold me. No one to love me. And I to love them. But, I’m used to it by now. The coldness, the emptiness. It doesn’t affect me as it had before. I’m not saying it doesn’t fa
1. Chapter 1 solus alone

**_How?_**

I am alone. Utterly alone. I have no one, no one to talk to, and no one to hold me. No one to love me. And I to love them. But, I'm used to it by now. The coldness, the emptiness. It doesn't affect me as it had before. I'm not saying it doesn't faze me, it does! I cry all alone on my pillow at night, every night.  No one cares.  It's like I'm just a piece of furniture, they have to put up with, like a rug. That's a perfect example. A rug. Tattered, and dirty for them to walk all over. You see, what they don't think about is what this rug, me, was before it was tarnished. It could have been colorful and beautiful, something people, just might notice and possibly, dare I think it, be glad to have around.  But no one dose, so what's the use of trying.  I am alone. I hate it! Why me? Why not someone else!?  What am I saying? I wouldn't dare think about putting this misfortune, this, this… this unbearable, agonizing, heartbreaking curse on another soul. Heartbreaking, perfect description. God, I can't even remember the last time I smiled on my own will.   Heartbreaking. You don't know what it's like having your heart ripped out, grinded into the ground. Spit upon by all. Eschewed. Eschew, another good word. It means to turn your back on, steer clear, having nothing to do with. To me it means betray. That's what my life is. One big, fat betrayal. One after another, after another, after another, after another. Pitiful, I know. Why don't I leave?  Why don't I run? Simple. I have nowhere to go. And if I went, not only would I not be missed, but also it would be the same. What's that verse from that song, something like 'different names, same old story.'  Or something of that sort.  Was the author of those words going through this living hell like me?  Its not a  'phase' not something that'll pass.  I know away to end it. End it all. My mind splits in a million different modes.  Some say it's the coward's way out, yet I am a coward, im afraid to do it, yet im not a coward. I have endeared with this hell for, God knows how long, shouldn't that count for something? , Anything? Or will it just be thrown back in my face, like, well, everything else. What makes me think that this one tiny thought will bend the rules?  I want to leave, I want to go so … so badly, go into an eternity of bliss, nothing to fear, dread or anything else of that matter. But something holds me back. I just wish I knew what it was.

 *~*~*~*~*~*~*{{A/N:  hey guys! I just kinda sat down at the ole' 'pooter and this just sprang out of my fingers. No im not Goth, or anything, im sick of all of these fanfics always shunning this certain character. So here it goes (don't worry it'll turnout to be interesting!)  Okay now go and read a happy fic so you can get outta this depressed mode! J I'll give a krispy kreme (that is original! no more cookies! Kk's have come to stay!) to whoever can figure out who this person is!!!! See ya in chapter two!}}*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Muchas smoochas,

The Magical Ferret


	2. Chapter 2 mortuus flos dead flower

At 7:00 A.M., my eternal clock told me it was time to get up. Ignoring it, I snuggled deeper under my covers, savoring the softness of my feathered pillow, and the smoothness of the silken bed sheets. I love the moment when I wake up, the way slumber still clings to your mind like a thick, hazy fog and you're so content with the world for as long as you can cling to the memories of your dreams. Or how when you wake up from a nightmare, still shaken and then slowly notice that it didn't really happen, that you are in your room, safe, and you drift back off to sleep, worries slowly disappearing as if wiped of the chalkboard of your mind with a giant eraser. And yet I hate it. After the moments of bliss have passed you finally realize that you are no longer safe back in your dreams or, in my case, even nightmares. I hate how the feeling of security drains from my body, like reality had pulled the plug.

Well, this particular morning, the few moments of happiness stayed for a while longer as I listened to the steady taps on my windows from the rain. I was almost lulled back off to sleep by the rhythm until I noticed a loud tapping, rather out of place of the others. My eyes sprang open and the mist in my mind evaporated as I realized what I woke up this early for. I slipped out of bed and padded my way, silently, to the window, taking extra care not to step on the creaking board two paces in front of it. I had barley opened the window when the speckled owl swiftly ducked into my room. The rain, thankfully, was falling perfectly vertical, and I didn't have to worry about mopping up the floor. Of coarse, that was before the ruffled bird shook the water from its coat of feathers. 

"Bloody bird." I muttered as I went to my washroom for a towel. The twit of an owl had the gall to look at me with its pale blue eyes and quirk its head as if to say ' who, me?'. Ignoring the feathered little bugger's antics to prune itself, I quickly untied to package from its ankle (it had the water repelling spell on it of coarse) and read the note.

'_ I sent the fastest owl. Just drink and you will be protected._'  Short, but sweet. It had not a signature, but I knew whom it was from.  He was like a father to me. The one who really cared. Sweet old man.

Tearing open the box, I found a vile containing a metallic purple potion. It had not much in it, for it was extremely hard to make. The brewer christened it, the Willful potion. It was recently discovered by Snape, as one of his students knocked a jar full of goldentree bark (an almost extinct species of magical tree) into his boiling cauldron full of his earlier attempts at crating the potion. It was vital to me. It countered the effects of the Imperious curse.  I was too weak to do it, having lived under it for my entire time at Hogwarts. Now, who would be so cruel as to put me under the forbidden spell? The bastard of a man who I live with.  I was promised to some one I utterly loathed. I refused to comply, so what did he do?  He put a mere _child_ under one of the Unforgivables. I had finally cracked this Summer (he doesn't control me in the Summer time unless I must meet 'the one I'm promised to') and sent one of my family's owls to Dumbledore, explaining what was happening. I would have told someone, anyone, earlier, but he had threatened me on the point of death. But, this was my 7th year, my last year of  "freedom" until I had to _marry_. I couldn't let that happen. I refused, so I let someone know.  I knew the risk. I knew the danger. Ii was better to die free, then to slowly perish under the custody of whom I loved not.

I uncapped the vile and downed the liquid, toppling to my knees at the unexpected intense pain in my stomach. It was like a sludge hammer was hacking away my intestines. Bile rose in my throat, but I kept it down.  I must have passed out a wile, because the next thing I knew, the stupid owl was pecking at my brow, making soft clucking noises from deep inside its throat. The rain had stopped falling I noticed. As I groaned and got up onto my feet, I saw the same gray clouds looming in the sky, foreshadowing another downpour. I still felt sick to my stomach though, and I decided to lie down on my bed. The constant cooing of the owl was soothing until the little winged rat sharply tapped my hand, waiting for a treat. I reached my hand in to my bedside table drawer and pulled one out, basically throwing it at the animal, to my surprise, the ruddy thing jumped up and caught in its beak. As soon as it swallowed I let it out the window after patting the strange little bird on its head. I flopped back onto my bed and sank into my thoughts. Some how I got caught on the subject of who I live with. 

I do not under stand how the man I grew to love after my parents had passed turned into the man he is.  My parents died when I was 4 years old. I can remember their faces. Mother had long shimmering brown hair, green eyes and the sweetest smile. Father had short dark brown hair, gray eyes and a mustache. He laughed a full belly laugh, unlike my Mothers sweet chuckle.  People say they were total opposites, but had such a love for each other, that nothing could separate them. Not even death. They both died the same time, the same way. Some people say they even had the same last word. My name.

"PANSY!! GET DRESSED YOUR GOING TO BE LATE!!" his voice rang from the first floor.

" Yes uncle" I whispered.

{A/N}~-~(hey, I haven't updated in forever. Blek. I was up late the other night, when this just came to me, I decided to type it. Lol.)


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